


Rescue

by BeyondTheClouds777



Series: Half-Bloods [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (not pictured), Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe, Demigods, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Greek/Roman Mythology - Freeform, Happy Ending, Hinata is the son of Zeus, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Kageyama is the son of Poseidon, Platonic Cuddling, Rescue, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24115252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeyondTheClouds777/pseuds/BeyondTheClouds777
Summary: The darkness around the edges of his sight fade. His eyes burn. The hands on his cheeks are now familiar in a way he can place. In a name he can say.“Hinata?”Hinata beams at him, bright as ever, and his thumbs catch the tears Kageyama doesn’t remember letting fall.“Thereyou are,” he whispers, out of breath. “And here I thought you’d forgotten about me. Do us both a big favor and don’t scare me like that again, stupid.”
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio
Series: Half-Bloods [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739992
Comments: 7
Kudos: 82





	Rescue

_ thud thud thud thud thud thud thud _

When Kageyama was little, he used to press his ear against his pillow before bed, and imagine that his heartbeats were actually footsteps, padding gently down the hallway on the way to his tiny, cramped bedroom in that tiny, cramped apartment. It was never a foreboding thought; rather, a comforting one, something personal and close and, yes, maybe a bit silly, but he didn’t see it that way until he was older and had less worth dreaming about. 

_ thud thud thud thud thud thud thud _

He’d lie there in the darkness listening to these ‘footsteps’, and sometimes he’d accidentally trick himself into thinking they were real. He remembers those nights vividly, as vividly as the air he breathes now, how he would leap out of bed, peer excitedly out the window, ignore the fact that he saw nothing and swing himself down the hall. 

It was always the question of, “Where’s Dad?” Followed by the question of, “When’s he coming back?” 

Dad never came back. Years later, and Mom barely came back, too. It was no longer ‘lucky to see dad’. It became ‘lucky to see Mom’ and ‘miracle to see Dad.’ And, by the time he turned fourteen, it was ‘miracle to see Mom’ and ‘impossible to see Dad.” 

Though, Dad never did care. 

_ thud thud thud thud thud thud thud _

In hindsight, Mom didn’t, either. 

_ thud thud thud thud thud thud thud _

With the side of his face pressed into the dirt, his heartbeat throbs in his temples and resonates like a drum. He doesn’t have to imagine footsteps this time, because there are footsteps near him, too. Real. There. Heavy enough to rattle him. 

He used to wonder why Mom didn’t bother. He stopped caring long before he got the answer. Dad at least had the decency to claim him at a reasonable age, when he still had time to learn how to defend himself before hoards of monsters came tearing down his door, but there’s a part of him that wishes he’d died young, unsuspecting and innocent and blissful, because now he knows more than he ever wanted to and he’s too stubborn to lay down and die.

Mom didn’t bother with him because he was a liability. 

_ thud thud thud thud thud thud thud _

He’s still a liability. 

_ thud thud thud thud thud thud thud _

And he’s laying down now, too, with his ear pressed into the earth as he blinks slowly and dazedly at his hands. He tries summoning the will to move and he can’t tell if it’s a lack of willpower or a lack of strength, but whether this or that, he can’t. There are thick, rusted chains snapped around his wrists that have to weigh at least as much as he does, each, if he’s being nice. 

In a way, it’s kind of funny. Despite their inhumanity, these monsters were smart enough to chain him. It somehow makes them even bigger monsters.

_ thud thud thud thud thud thud thud _

He knows where he is, distantly, and how he got here. A quest. It’s always a quest. How many more people have to die before they realize? They can read a prophecy to a corpse as many times as you want and it’ll never make a  _ goddamn difference.  _

Maybe demigods wouldn’t have a life expectancy of -16 if the higher-ups didn’t have such skewed priorities.

_ THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD _

It isn’t his heartbeat, not this time. Those are actual footsteps. Rattling footsteps that make the ground tremble. A towering shadow blocks out the sunlight. It was already dark before. Now it’s too dark to hope.

He feels like he’s four years old again, looking out a pitch black window. Seeing no car, no headlights, no familiar figure. Running down the hallway anyway, into a living room to face the back of a mother who never looked him in the eye. Those who knew the family always said he was the spitting image of his mother, but he honest to gods can’t remember what she even looked like. 

_ “Where’s Dad?”  _

Liability. 

_ “... When’s he coming back?”  _

Statistic. 

_ “Mom?”  _

Demigod before person. 

_ “Where are you?”  _

Responsibilities before child. 

_ “Kageyama Tobio, my beloved son.”  _

He should have died young. 

_ “The son of Neptune.”  _

He should have died a long time ago.

_ “Kageyama!”  _

He’s going to die now.

_ “Kageyama!”  _

What the hell for?

“Kageyama!” 

There are more footsteps. Lots more. They don’t shake the ground individually, but in tandem, and the earth quakes. He can’t muster the energy to open his eyes. 

“Gods—Suga!” 

“Got it!” 

“There are two more on the shore, they’re regrouping!” 

“Cut them off at the pass. Burn the bridge! We’ll make do when the time comes.”

“Lure it out!” 

More noise. More thuds. His heartbeat roars until it’s the only thing he can hear. He can’t feel anything. He can’t distinguish between now and then. He doesn’t know if he’s four years old or twenty. The voices seem familiar, but in a distant way, like something in a dream, and—

“Kageyama?” 

Someone touches his shoulder, and it awakens this burning thing in his chest, like a gnashing hound dog beaten and bruised on its last stretch of life. He lashes out with a shriek that doesn’t sound like his own and falls back, chains clanking, wrists raw and bleeding. 

It’s sad. 

Even when he’s accepted death, there’s a deep, guttural part of him that doesn’t want to die. 

“Kageyama.” 

Whoever’s there touches his face this time, which—it’s  _ worse,  _ it  _ should  _ be worse, but he doesn’t pull away anymore. That horrible thing in his chest isn’t  _ dead  _ yet, but calmer. The voice is steady and… familiar, again, but not in a dream kind of way.

There’s blood and filth and tears in his eyes. The hands are gentle. Warm. He hasn’t been able to describe anything that way in a long time. 

How long has he been here?

“I don’t know who, or— _what_ you’re seeing right now,” he’s told, by a voice equal parts gentle and warm, “but I promise it’s not real. _We’re_ real, _I’m_ real, we came to get you out of here, and I—I don’t know how to prove it to you, I’m sorry, and I know I’m asking something impossible of you but, trust me. Please trust me.”

‘Trust’ sparks something in the back of his mind. Dull. But there. It hits him kind of the same way a properly weighted training sword does. It isn’t sharp enough to cut, but it hits something, and it hits that something hard enough to rebound. 

The darkness around the edges of his sight fade. His eyes burn. The hands on his cheeks are now familiar in a way he can place. In a name he can say. 

“Hinata?” 

Hinata beams at him, bright as ever, and his thumbs catch the tears Kageyama doesn’t remember letting fall.  _ “There _ you are,” he whispers, out of breath. “And here I thought you’d forgotten about me. Do us both a big favor and don’t scare me like that again, stupid.”

His words mean more than their surface, much more. A bit more than Kageyama is ready to handle. He pitches forward and Hinata catches him, snaking his arms around his shoulders and pulling him impossibly close. Hinata laughs, but it’s shaky, and Kageyama has never heard someone laugh so genuinely and sound so, so very broken. 

“You really are stupid, aren’t you?” 

Kageyama doesn’t know what to say, but it’s easy to fall back with Hinata. They know each other well enough.  _ “Dumbass,” _ he croaks. It’s the only word he can muster as well as the only word that feels right.

Hinata laughs again, squeezing him tight. “Insult me again later. When I’m not too happy to be mad at you.” 

It’s the last thing Kageyama hears, and he’s glad he was alive to hear it.

* * *

He wakes on and off with varying levels of coherency, though he never manages to achieve an impressive (or even functional) amount of it. The only consistency (aside from feeling like  _ shit) _ is Hinata. It doesn’t seem to matter how long he’s out or when he drifts back into awareness, Hinata is always there, he’s always wide awake, and he’s always… just,  _ Hinata.  _ Like nothing even happened. 

They should probably talk about what happened. If only he were lucid enough to think through it all.

One time in particular, Kageyama clocks back in with his consciousness in the middle of the night, and Hinata is struggling to stay awake. It’s the first time Kageyama is coherent enough to  _ think,  _ as well as the first time he’s coherent enough to properly examine Hinata’s features.

He looks like he’s been staving off sleep for a while, for a  _ lot  _ longer than just the first few hours of the night. Kageyama doesn’t know how long it’s been since the rescue—or, worse, since the kidnapping, he doesn’t know  _ how  _ long he was trapped—but Hinata is just dumbass-enough that he’s probably been here the whole time. The dark circles under his eyes, the ones that in hindsight had been there since he found Kageyama, are darker and more bruise-like, and his hair is unkempt and there’s a gloss over his irises like marbled glass. He nods too far once, twice, then snaps himself awake again just before falling. 

Kageyama inhales, breath caught on damaged ribs and tight lungs, but his voice works now where it hadn’t before. He sighs, and then, “C’mere, dumbass.”

Hinata starts  _ hard,  _ whipping toward him with eyes blown wide. It opens him up further, and. Yeah. He definitely hasn’t been taking care of himself. “K-Kage—?”

“You aren’t gonna break me, just c’mere.”

Hinata swallows hard, but his face scrunches up as the glassiness in his eyes melts into tears, and he moves from his stool to curl against Kageyama’s side. Kageyama wraps his arm around Hinata’s shoulders, and the effort it takes leaves him tired and dizzy, but Hinata snuggles down close to him with the side of his head pressed into Kageyama’s shoulder, tears soaking his shirt, and Kageyama leaves his arm there.

“We’re fine, stupid.” Kageyama inhales-exhales, burying his nose into Hinata’s hair. “We’re fine.”

Hinata nods against him, trembling arms wound around his waist, and Kageyama squeezes him weakly. He isn’t sure he believes himself—they live the kind of life where ‘fine’ is a novelty, something they don’t really  _ get  _ the luxury of having, but he figures if just now they deserve to have this ‘fine’ wherever they can. Even if it’s just one second in a tapestry of hardships, it’s a second he can have with Hinata, and maybe for now that’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this AU on the burner for years so I'm really excited to finally be posting content for it!! stay safe out there y'all <3 make sure to drink lots of water and give yourself lots of hugs. I wish you all the very best <3 <3
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/BClouds777) || [tumblr](https://pocket-full-of-wonder.tumblr.com/)


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